


Meant to Be

by pherryt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Not by sam or dean), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Come as Lube, Coming Untouched, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time Having Sex, Dom/sub, Feels, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Gentle Dom Sam, Grooming, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Magic, Sibling Incest, Sigils, Smut, Sub Dean, Switch Dean, Switch Sam, Switching, but with enthusiastic consent, canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23372800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Dean's family had been on the road since 'the incident', never putting down roots, making attachments, but there came a day he knew he had to leave. It was hard, leaving them, but what else could he do?If he stayed, something was going to happen, something Dean would never be able to forgive himself for, so he left, pushing temptation away. But 10 years later sees him back in temptation's path, and grown up, Sammy's even more alluring than before.Still, Dean resists - he resists his desires, Sam's advances, and John's manipulations - until the time comes and he has to make a choice.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester, Wincest
Comments: 14
Kudos: 77





	Meant to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, for those of you who don't know supernatural and may have clicked this on accident - this is incest. 
> 
> No, there is no dubious consent, despite the fuck or die scenario or the incest. (Their real feelings are made clear throughout)
> 
> Yes, John Winchester is a dick - i have intimated here that he was sorta grooming them for this. No, i have no idea why. The entire freaking set up came out of a dream and then i had to write it because it wouldn't leave me alone. So either it was one of those things that made sense because it was a dream, OR, i lost it when i woke up before i could write it down. Or Both. Probably that.
> 
> Much thanks goes to Threshie who beta'd this for me, helping me figure out what i needed to expand and reword. Threshie also suggested most of the tags... i usually don't go that explicit since, well, if it's marked explicit and tagged smut, i figure there's nothing too surprising but, i'm starting to wonder if i shouldn't be more thorough in that regard - opinions?
> 
> My apologies to anyone who follows me who's not into Wincest. Normally i'd say i wasn't either but *shrugs* here it is, so what do I know?
> 
> *nervously puts this out there*

Dean didn’t think he was ready for this, but the sigil pulsed angrily against his skin as he edged into the abandoned house, Sam beside him.

This would be the final step.

Even now, even with their father dead, John was pushing his boys together. Dean had run, once, to avoid this  very fate,  fueled by his own, secret guilt.

He swallowed, setting down the duffel just inside the door, avoiding looking at Sam. Dean had wanted this for  _ far  _ too long, and now here it was, being served up on a silver platter. Eagerly. These past two years, being back with Sam had been hard, trying to resist his own, base urges.

This was  _ wrong. _

And Dean had known that, back when he ran. Family and duty was all he had, and he’d sacrificed all that, his only connections, for Sam’s sake. Had endured his father’s wrath by disappointing him, by disappearing for a literal decade.

Hell, Dean never would have come back at all if it hadn’t been for the death of his mother.

And John had blamed Dean’s absence for that , had made sure to throw that in Dean’s face at every opportunity  after Dean’s return. He should have left again after Mary’s funeral, but guilt had made him stay when everything screamed at him to go, go, go –  _ go _ , before it was too late.

It was already too late. It had been far too late even before he ran away, tried to get some space, to knock some sense into himself. When Sam had looked up at him with smitten eyes, encouraged by their father,  it had been too fucking late.

Dean was already gone.

It’d been the hardest thing he’d ever done, wrenching himself away from Sam’s side, but he’d done it for  _ Sam _ . Because surely, if Dean weren’t there, Sam couldn’t be corrupted the way Dean already was – right?

It was only now , looking back over their lives, that Dean realized John had always been pushing for this. For them to be a unit, self-contained. John never wanted outsiders in their lives, yet the power their family drew on, the power they used to protect people… relied wholly on pairing up.

On sexual energies, on submission.

And Dean and Sam had been sharing a bed since they were children. Dean had been trained to follow orders since that first incident that had almost cost them their mother. It had been a near thing , and they’d draw inwards as a family unit as a result.

Ever since the fire they’d been on the move, never staying long enough to put down roots or make connections, Sam and Dean dependent on their parents for  _ everything _ .

In retrospect, it had all been planned. John couldn’t trust anyone outside their family, so neither would they.

What Mary thought of it, Dean had always been afraid to ask. His mother had been different, since the fire. Since that one event tore away the security Dean had always known and replaced it with a newer normal that wasn’t normal at all. Had she even realized? The bed sharing could have been completely innocent, a thing of necessity, the reliance his parents taught a completely logical side effect of living in fear.

At this point Dean would never quite know for sure, but there’d been knowing looks on John’s face, approving ones when Sam was old enough to start showing that sort of interest in  _ anyone  _ and his gaze had fallen on Dean.

And Dean? Dean had preened when he noticed the attention from Sam, had admired the teen Sam was growing into – and knew he had to go, before he did something unforgivable, if not by John’s standards, then certainly by society’s.

So Dean had run and tried not to look back.

He’d made it a whole decade on his own before everything changed on him. Before his mother died. He couldn’t  _ not  _ go to the funeral for his own  _ mother,  _ right? He didn’t even bother asking how John had known exactly how to get a hold of Dean. Or why he hadn’t tried to drag Dean back sooner if he’d known where Dean was the entire time. Dean was too grief stricken to care.

And then he’d seen Sammy and it was like being punched in the gut.

Sam was different than he’d remembered, but then he’d have to be. No longer a short, skinny boy of 14, but a tall, strong and handsome man of 24. Almost a stranger. Dean had been forced to realize that if they’d met on the street and names weren’t exchanged, he’d never know they were brothers.

It frightened him just as much as it had before – more even, because Dean was definitely attracted to Sam, and Sam made no efforts to hide how much he was attracted in return.

The next two years had been the strangest give and take of his life. Dean had learned how to sip power from strangers while he was on his own. He didn’t want to know what Sam had resorted to. But time and distance had done nothing to soften Sam’s regard for Dean. His want. If anything, Sam had gotten bolder, pressing for more.

And Dean, god help him, he was giving in, in small increments, allowing Sam to stand too close, allowing his charged touches - a caress here, a heated grip there – each one burning like a brand on Dean’s skin declaring him  _ Sam’s, Sam’s, Sam’s. _

Sleeping had become a special kind of torture, John still arranging for not enough beds. It made Sam grin slyly and Dean’s gut twist in shamed anticipation.

He’d been unable to maintain a distance in the small beds – there were never enough pillows for an effective barricade. Sam was determined and, in his sleep, Dean’s body betrayed him, instinctually curled towards the heat of his brother, drawn in by a body, by  _ hands _ even bigger than his own. Dean felt safe in a way that he hadn’t in so long, secure, cared for.

He had tried to escape Sam before, and it had been hard then, but it was proving impossible to deny Sam his orbit now.

Not when he really didn’t want to leave, to forsake Sam again, not deep down.

But Dean still hadn’t given in, not completely.  And  tonight, all that would change.

Because tonight, they were running out of time.

A year after Dean had rejoined his father and brother, they finally got a lead on what had happened to Mary.  A high-ranking demon named Azazel had taken an interest in their family. They still didn’t know why.

It  had taken them another year to track down that lead and go after Mary’s killer, but John’s power had waned, unwilling to feed on any other but her. It had been a strange symbiotic relationship, but the love there had been real, Dean was sure.

Real or not, that love had turned to an obsession, and in his weakened state John had been easy pickings for the demon that had come after their family.

John’s death only a week ago had left Sam and Dean reeling and with no time to process. They’d been too busy getting the things they needed to take out the demon and rescue their father’s soul.

Tonight, they’d succeeded.

It had been a long, hard road – Azazel had, apparently, been gunning for them since the night of the fire,  maybe longer , and  Dean didn’t think they’d ever find out why – but they’d done it. Between them, Dean and Sam had killed the demon responsible for their parents’ deaths, gotten the revenge their father had wanted and  had liberated their father’s soul from  its grasp.

But all that had come with a price. To save John’s soul, they’d needed to temporarily anchor it to Dean, and now…

And now they were going to free it, send it to where it belonged.

If only they could have found their mother’s, or at least confirmed she wasn’t trapped somewhere in limbo.

This last fight had taken a lot out of them, and the magic in Dean’s hands was a sparking mess, fizzling out no matter what he tried to do, no matter how small the task. Anchoring John had taken  _ everything _ he had.

Sam had taken out Azazel and was in barely better shape than Dean. But they couldn’t leave John’s soul attached to Dean -- it would burn him from the inside out. Nor could they just release it – John’s window of death had come and gone, his Reaper destroyed by Azazel. They needed to call another to guide John home. To do that, they needed power, and they needed it now.

And here they were, in the middle of nowhere. There was only one option. Dean’s heart was beating fast, fingers shaking at the thought. This could be it. His only chance to have a taste of what Sam was offering without feeling guilty.

Oh, fuck, who was Dean kidding? The guilt was still as thick and strong as ever. He reminded himself that there was only  _ one way _ for either of them to get  the power they needed so quickly,  by one or the other harnessing the sexual energies that lay between them.

Dean’s breathing sped up as Sam pushed furniture away from the center of the room and unrolled the fabric they’d taken from the trunk, spreading it over the wooden floor. The fabric, thick and weighed down at the ends, was magically woven – once set into place, a trigger word would make it stiffen and adhere to the surface it laid on. No wrinkles, no crimps to alter the intricate magic symbols that decorated the cloth.

It was only needed for the bigger offerings, like a binding, like what they planned to do tonight, a tie that would bind two souls together permanently. It was a family heirloom, apparently, that John had only revealed after the fire, after the truth of what he could do and what he was came out.

What his children were.

Sam had asked if they were Succubi - or, rather, given they were male - Incubi, but John had shaken his head and explained that they were all, still, very much human. The differences seemed to lay in the how of it. They weren’t driven to seduce others and the people who they drew from did not grow addicted or die. Nor did forgoing the accumulation of power actually kill them, in and of itself. It was merely a method for stockpiling a magical reservoir, with which they were able to do just about anything.

Like a witch.

Dean had wanted to say there was no such thing, but, by that point, there was no denying it.

He’d hoped to never use it, content with such small sips he’d been taking that the ritual cloth would be unnecessary. He had been reluctant to tie a soul to him so permanently as Dad had tied his mother’s. John hadn’t taken Mary’s death well, and Dean couldn’t help but think the binding had had something to do with it.

But here, now, Sam was laying it out, murmuring a word and placing candles -  retrieved from the duffel Dean had brought in \- in strategic locations, each one flaring to life  on their own as they connected with the fabric.

Under his skin, John pushed and shoved at Dean, trying to get out. Dean hissed, rubbing at the burning sigil, and Sam turned to him instantly.

“Just a little longer, Dean,” he promised. Placing the last candle. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork then nodded briskly. “Okay, that’s done it.”

“What if this doesn’t work?” Dean protested. It wasn’t like either of them had ever had cause to go this far before, had never used the ritual cloth.

Sam was by his side in an instant, both hands reaching up to cup Dean’s face. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, leaning into Sam’s hands with a defeated sigh. Sam leaned in, nosing along Dean’s cheeks, his hands moving slowly away from Dean’s face, sliding down his neck, lips brushing Dean’s temple. 

“It’s gonna be alright. I’ll take care of you, Dean. You know that, right? I’ll  _ always _ take care of you.”

Dean went nearly limp at Sam’s assurances. At the promise of being taken care of.

“I’ve always wanted this, Dean. Wanted you,” Sam said, dragging his lips up along Dean’s neck. Dean choked back a sob at the lightning flaring up inside him. “Why’d you fight this for so long? Don’t you love me?”

“We’re brothers, Sammy,” Dean could barely manage. “Of course I love you, but this… It ain’t right.”

“It doesn’t hurt anybody,” Sam whispered. “So why should it be a problem?”

“I-I’m older,” Dean whispered hoarsely as Sam’s teeth scraped his jaw. “The power imbalance –“

“You ran away, Dean,” Sam’s lips hovered over Dean’s, warm breath tickling him. “And I’m a grown man now, have been for  _ years.  _ There was no imbalance when you came back. You didn’t seduce me into it. This is pure, the purest, need, love, want -”

With each word, Sam’s hands caressed Dean’s arms through his flannel, skimmed back up over his ribs before pushing the sleeves back.

“You think I wanted you just because Dad wanted me to? Trust me, if I didn't agree with something Dad told me to do, I didn't do it. This is more than that, Dean. It always has been,” Sam said. “Dad didn’t force this on me. He only gave me permission for what I already felt. All that matters to me, is that  _ you  _ want this too."

When the shirt fell away, Sam’s lips touched Dean’s and Dean gasped, melting, clutching at Sam’s shirt, knees weak. Sam quickly took advantage of the gasp, slipped his tongue inside his mouth and explored languidly, like they had all the time in the world for revelations of the flesh.

Dean was lost in the kiss, in the wet slide of Sam’s tongue, the bruising intensity of Sam’s fingertips wherever they gripped. Sam plundered Dean’s mouth and Dean whimpered at the gentle assault slowly turning deeper, rougher, needier.

He was jerked forward and Dean groaned when his cock, hard and aching, met Sam’s through their jeans.

Sam’s mouth floated away from Dean’s, nipping harshly. Dean panted as Sam ground their cocks together. “See? You want me just as much as I want you. You should stop fighting me, this. We can be so good together, in so many ways. We can be  _ everything.  _ Pleasure and power all in one.”

“I don’t… I don’t want power,” Dean gasped out. “Never wanted it –“

Drawing back, Sam smirked down at him, eyes glinting with so much desire Dean was drowning in it. “That’s fine, Dean. I’ll take care of  _ all  _ of that too.”

Eyes roving downwards hotly, Sam suddenly growled. “Too many clothes, Dean. I’ve waited too long for this moment to wait any longer.” He grabbed Dean’s chin and jerked upward. “You in or out? I want this willing.”

Dean closed his eyes and – _God help him_ _for caving in to his desires_ – whispered, “In, fuck, Sammy, _please_.”

The sound  Sam made  in response  was almost unholy and his hand disappeared from Dean’s chin and then both hands were spread over his chest, stroking his abs, tweaking a nipple – all through the black t- shirt – before suddenly, Sam’s hands clenched around the fabric and he yanked, tearing apart the fabric with a loud  _ riiiiiiiiip. _

Then there were warm hands on Dean’s naked flesh and his skin broke out into goosebumps, heat pooling low and hot. He groaned, still clutching at Sam – the only reason he was still standing in this moment – and then Sam stepped back, prying Dean’s hands off his shirt.

“Strip,” he demanded.

Dean wobbled on unsteady legs and nodded, blushing hotly as Sam watched him take care of the remnants of his shirt, the scraps of fabric still clinging to his arms, before moving towards his jeans, snapping open the button with his thumb. Hands trembling, Dean unzipped his jeans, pushing them down over his hips, his boxers dragging down with them.

Sam made an appreciative sound in his throat and Dean had to pause, pants and boxers around his ankles, to look up at Sam.

“You’re beautiful, Dean,” Sam purred. Dean whimpered at the words, his heart skipped a beat, and his dick twitched at the praise. Sam laughed lightly. “Oh, you _ like _ that, don’t you?”

Dean gave a sharp gasp the second Sam surged forward and yanked Dean into him hard, smashing him into Sam’s body, mouth slanting roughly over Dean’s and plunging in, fingers gripping Dean’s bare backside and hauling him in close, rubbing Dean’s cock over Sam’s clothes. Dean stumbled, feet still tangled in his clothes and Sam hauled him into the air. The motion had Sam’s fingers spreading Dean’s ass and he groaned into the kiss, even as Dean kicked his pants free, with just enough presence of mind to kick them clear of the candles, outside of the circle before wrapping his legs around Sam and hooking them together.

Whatever his reservations about this whole deal, he wasn’t too keen on being trapped in a circle of fire and burned alive or even just burned.

Dean’s head snapped back, biting his lip and hissing in pain as the sigil flared against his skin, burning bright between him and Sam. Sam eased Dean down, letting him slide down the length of his body and setting him on his feet. One hand reached up to press over the sigil. Dean could even see the light of it pushing between the cracks of Sam’s fingers, the edges of his fingers glowing with it.

“Don’t worry,” Sam said, steadying Dean, cupping his cheek with his hand and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Dean’s lips. “We’ve got this. I’ve got you.”  He stepped back, still fully clothed  while Dean  was as naked as a babe. Sam’s eyes held a hungry look, his fingers trailing along Dean’s jaw as his hands fell away. “On your knees.”

Dean hesitated.

The sigil had burnt through the haze of lust and Dean’s shame from earlier, from so much of his life, over what he wanted from Sam, all of it welled back up. He took a shuddering breath before slowly, shakily, getting down on his knees, relaxing back to rest on his heels, hands placed on his thighs.

“Good boy,” Sam said with a smirk.

Dean swallowed, eyes tracking every move Sam made, watching his confident steps, the nimble fingers, as he set about prepping the spell they needed to power.

Sam disappeared from view, unless Dean wanted to twist and crane uncomfortably. His gut churned as he listened to Sam moving about, heard low words spoken. It was a long few moments before Sam came into his view again, long enough for Dean to doubt what they were going to do, that it was the  _ right  _ thing to do.

His breath caught at the first sight of Sam, completely naked, looming over Dean, tall and confident. Dean’s eyes dragged up the length of his body, over the thick thighs, stuttering at the view of Sam’s long cock, hard and leaking and more than onboard with what they were  about to do . Licking his lips, his mouth suddenly gone dry, Dean forced himself to look further up, to the toned abs and even higher.

He stalled out on Sam’s mouth, Dean’s own lips still tingling from the kisses and, god help him, he wanted that again, wanted to taste Sam, to drown in him. The edges of Sam’s mouth curved into something more reassuring, despite the heat in his eyes.

“Spell’s ready, Dean. We just need to power it. Do you submit to me?” Sam asked gently, his tone matching his lips, a hand reaching for Dean’s head, carding through the short spikes before giving a light tug, making sure Dean was looking into his eyes. “Do you?”

Gulping, Dean nodded slowly and the expression on Sam’s face turned predatory, the grip in Dean’s hair grew tighter, pulling Dean up from his relaxed pose. He overbalanced, hands swinging up to grasp Sam’s thighs. Sam hummed, pulling Dean closer, till Dean was staring directly at Sam’s cock.

“Go on, then,” Sam ordered. “You know you’ve always wanted to.”

Was this really happening? Was he really about to do this? To Sam? To his brother? Dean was no stranger to sucking cock, but  _ Sam? _

He leaned forward slowly, ghosting his breath over Sam’s massive length, his fingers flexing their grip on Sam’s thighs. He started to slide his hands forward, intending to grasp Sam’s cock and Sam’s grip tightened further, sending pricks of pain through Dean’s scalp. He shuddered as pleasure ran through him.

“Hands free, Dean. Show me what you can do with just your mouth,” Sam snapped out, but even he was breathless. It gave Dean a little more confidence. He’d known Sam had wanted him for a good long time, but this, this was something else, something more than just knowing.

Dean nuzzled in lightly, softly moving his lips along the hot skin, taunting, teasing. A few times, he let his tongue dart out from between parted lips to just barely touch,  to  drag lightly over a vein, tasting the musky smell of Sam, licking the leaking precome and moaning heavily as the flavor burst over his tongue.

Above him, Sam huffed. “Jesus, Dean, you trying to torture me?”

Smirking, Dean continued to tease his way up to the tip of Sam’s cock, the flushed, red head of it. He tongued at the slit, eyes fluttering closed as he tasted even more of Sam, before he took the tip of it into his mouth, sucking lightly, fitting his lips just under the head, working the sensitive part of it. Sam was panting now, fingers flexing, pulling at Dean’s hair and finally,  _ finally,  _ Dean allowed himself to sink down over Sam’s cock, taking him to the root, working his mouth and tongue over the hot flesh the whole way.

When Dean finally stopped, flush, nose prickled by Sam’s hair, he opened his eyes to stare up at Sam, then deliberately let go of his anchor, spreading his legs slightly before placing his hands behind his own back, clasping at his wrist.

The binding circle flared to life around them at this act of submission – not Dean’s first, nor would it be the last. But each act, each time Dean fully, wholeheartedly submitted to Sam, would bring the binding closer to completion , filling Sam with the power they needed.

Reaching a Reaper was no small task.

The sigil on Dean’s chest still glowed, but the pleasure humming through Dean’s body, shaking through his muscles and bones, was drowning out the impatient pain of it. Instead, he relaxed his jaw and stayed steady, Sam thrusting into Dean’s mouth with a needy groan.

“Fucking finally, Dean,” Sam breathed. “God, your mouth is better than I imagined. Y’know how many times I’ve gotten off thinking of you like this? On your knees, like I’ve seen you with so many other guys. But this time, for me, all me, only me, from now on. Never anybody else.”

The words became a low growl, Sam’s cock fucking Dean’s mouth harder and faster, Dean choking as Sam hit the back of his throat again and again. The realization that Sam had  _ seen  _ him with other guys, had seen him taking cock after cock down his throat – what else had Sam seen?

How had Dean never noticed?

He should be ashamed at having been caught out, but Dean had never been ashamed of taking his pleasure when he could. He should be ashamed that it had been Sam, his  _ brother,  _ that had seen him, but here he was, now, being used for  _ Sam’s _ pleasure and Dean…

Dean was enjoying it.

“Look at you,” Sam said, breathing hard now. “God, you feel good around me. Taking me so well, your lips stretched around my cock. Jesus, Dean – “ Sam choked on a cry, his other hand coming to grab Dean’s head, hips jerking harshly into Dean’s face. “Yessssss….”

Sam spilled into Dean’s mouth. If he’d thought the sweet taste of Sam’s precome had been Heaven, it was nothing compared to this. Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head as he swallowed Sam’s come, and his own cock spurted. He groaned around Sam’s cock and Sam jerked forward again, grinding into Dean’s mouth as they came in near tandem. The circle around them flared again, shifting colors, turning brighter, as Sam pulled his still half hard cock out of Dean’s mouth.

Sam dropped to his knees, rubbing a thumb over Dean’s swollen lips. The spell of the cloth would have them ready to go again. Dean could already feel his cock plumping up, despite already coming. He whimpered as the need to be taken pulsed through him.

“So good for me, Dean,” Sam said, pushing forward, laving kisses over Dean’s face. “So good. And fuck, you coming untouched like that, Dean? That was hot. That you wanted me so much… See how right this is?” Without letting Dean answer him, Sam’s mouth covered his, licking in with a groan. He pulled back, eyes dilated nearly black with want. “I can taste myself on you. God, I never knew how much I’d like that.”

He dove back in, the kiss deep and wet as a hand swept downward, finding the mess Dean had left on his stomach and swirling his fingers through Dean’s come.

“I kinda want to taste you,” Sam whispered as he tugged at the lobe of Dean’s ear with his teeth. “But I have a better idea…”

Without warning, Sam had spread Dean’s ass, a finger circling his hole. He whimpered at the thought of Sam using Dean’s own come as lube.

“Hold onto me, Dean,” Sam growled, biting at Dean’s throat and yanking Dean into his lap, Dean straddling one thick thigh, his cock rutting against Sam even as he curled his hands around Sam’s neck. Dean’s back arched, a cry echoing through the building when Sam’s finger breached him, thrusting slightly too harshly.

Dean’s come wouldn’t be enough, it couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be enough, it’d been too long – but he found he didn’t care. Sam was busy sucking bruises into Dean’s throat and was slowly moving across his collarbones, his finger joined by a second, working to stretch Dean open.

“You ready for more, sweetheart?” Sam asked him after a pause to swipe up more of Dean’s come. “I think you are. God, you’re riding my fingers. Just wait till I can get my dick in you. Think that feels good…”

Whimpering, Dean fell forward, rolling his hips along Sam’s thigh, rubbing his hard cock over Sam and thrusting down on Sam’s fingers. 

“More, Sammy, fuck, please, I need more…”

A third finger joined the other two and Dean clenched down on Sam with a gasp. Sam continued to stretch him, avoiding Dean’s prostate despite how much Dean wriggled to change the angle. Sam slapped his ass, making Dean still with a groan, then groan again, as Sam rubbed the same spot  tenderly. .

“Sam, Sammy, please…” This was it, this was Dean, reduced to begging. It had always been a point of pride for him that no matter if he topped or bottomed, no matter who did what, he  _ never  _ begged. But now he was. Light seared his closed eyelids with the words and he thought he might combust if Sam didn’t get  _ on  _ with it already.

“Hands and knees,” Sam ordered suddenly, withdrawing his fingers. He gave Dean’s ass another slap to hurry him along when Dean took too long to obey. Nodding frantically, Dean slid down off Sam’s lap, turned and stretched himself out onto his hands and knees, presenting his ass for Sam’s perusal.

Hands slide over his calves, slowly up over his thighs, rubbing circles the whole way, easing a slight tension Dean hadn’t realized he was  _ still  _ carrying. Then they moved higher, skimming over his ass, tickling over his ribs and tracing up his spine, then down again. The light around them was getting so bright it was blinding and Dean closed his eyes against it, jerking forward when a tongue touched him, caressed him, teased at his rim, Sam’s hands still sliding and massaging Dean’s back before coming back down to spread his cheeks wide.

Dean could feel the heat of his flush on his cheeks as Sam enthusiastically plunged his tongue past the ring of muscle and paid homage to Dean’s ass, hair draped over him like a, well, like a curtain, Dean was sure if he could actually see it.

Dean was harder than he’d ever been in his life, begging, with tears running down his face before Sam deemed himself sated enough by the taste of Dean and his tongue disappeared, only for the hot length of his cock to press against the crease of Dean’s ass, sliding wetly between the cheeks.

Relief and hot need both filled Dean when the blunt head of Sam’s cock finally teased at his hole and slowly, inexorably, pressed inward, hands gripping Dean’s hips and keeping him still. Dean trembled beneath Sam’s fingertips, knees weak and only held up by Sam.

With a long, low, groan, Sam sheathed himself inside of Dean and Dean felt so fucking full, so fucking good. Sam waited for Dean to adjust, rubbing his hands up and down Dean’s back, around his sides and back.

The pause let Dean feel the angry pulse of the sigil, still a burning brand across his skin. He spared a thought for the soul contained within and wondered what it saw, what it heard. He waited for the usual shame, the old guilt, to raise its ugly head, but he shifted, and it sent lovely sparks of pleasure through him and all other thoughts splintering away other than one -

Jesus… this was really happening…

With  an impatient whine, Dean shimmied back against Sam and reveled in the gasp that escaped his  brother’s throat.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Sam growled. His cock dragged  out slowly before he slammed back in, Dean crying out, rocking forward with the powerful thrust. Grunting, Sam set a hard pace and Dean was melting, sliding forward, elbows knocked from underneath him till he was half pressed into the floor, tears wetting the cloth beneath his face as Sam pounded him.

It was… glorious…

It was more than Dean had ever thought could be…

Loud cries and sharp gasps escaped Dean with every thrust, heat and pleasure coiling and sparking through his body, his cock throbbing with desperate need that only grew with every thrust, every time Sam hit his prostate. Blue white light filtered through closed eyelids as Dean just slumped and allowed Sam to do what he would –

Dean didn’t care because it felt good, because it was  _ Sam _ , because he knew Sam loved him and would never hurt him. Because he loved Sam too –

“So tight, so good, you’re so good, God, Dean, you’re perfect,” Sam grunted. “This is perfect, everything I ever wanted. You’re everything. My everything –“

Dean should feel guilty for that, but he just didn’t fucking care anymore. This felt better than anything ever had and Sam was right – who was it hurting? Sam was a grown man, he knew his own mind. Dean hadn’t manipulated him into this, had done  _ everything  _ he could to stop it – but what did it matter anymore?

Sam’s thrusts grew erratic, one hand gliding around Dean’s sweat soaked skin to finally –  _ finally! Why had it taken so long? –  _ wrap easily around Dean’s cock. It was electric, surging through Dean -

This had always been building and it felt right  _ – so goddamned right.  _ Why had he fought this for so long again?

“Yeah, that’s it, Dean, you’re mine,” Sam grunted. Dean cried out, rocking back onto Sam’s cock, thrusting forward into Sam’s hand, head pillowed on his hands, his sounds muffled by his arms. Sam’s body covered Dean’s, a sensation Dean had rarely experienced, being so swallowed up by another. Dean didn’t find too many men bigger than him that he could trust to take him over so completely.

Sam bit down on the sensitive spot on Dean’s shoulder where it met his throat as he came, hot come pulsing, spilling inside Dean, Sam’s strong hand picking up speed over Dean’s cock.

“Say it, Dean,” Sam growled. “You’re mine. If you say it, you get to come.”

“I-I’m y-yours,” Dean stammered. “Oooooh fuck, Sammy, yours, all yours.” Dean babbled even as Sam twisted his hand  _ just  _ right on Dean’s cock, thumb playing with the slit – and fucking  _ hell,  _ how did Sam know how to do that?

And Dean came with a sobbing cry,  falling flat to the binding cloth, breathing hard, Sam’s weight following him down, covering him. Sam idly thrust with his half hard cock, nuzzling at Dean’s neck while his warm, strong hands soothed up and down Dean’s arms.

“Halfway there, Dean. You ready to keep going?” Sam whispered eagerly before easing out with a sigh. Dean shuddered with anticipation of  _ more _ , more of  _ anything  _ with Sam.

“Yeah,” Dean croaked. “’m ready.”

“Roll over,” Sam said, his weight disappearing. Dean almost cried out in disappointment but then Sam’s kept going. “Fuck, you felt so good around me that I can't wait to find out how you feel inside  _ me _ .”

Dean whimpered at the words but he hastily followed Sam’s command. The binding cloth was gently glowing still, a shield that kept everything else out. He stared his fill of Sam, licking his lips in anticipation. He hoped Sam would kiss him again, wanted to ask for it, to reach for him, but before Dean could, Sam frowned down at Dean, his hand coming over to swipe at the sigil.

“Are you in pain?” Sam asked, thumb tracing the pattern holding their father’s soul, concern thick in his voice, in those big, wide eyes.

Dean shrugged, then shook his head, as if it weren’t a big deal.

“Dean,” Sam said slowly, the look on his face making Dean look away.

“I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean said, his voice gruff.

“It doesn’t  _ look _ fine, Dean. We’ve never held power sigils like this so long,” Sam said. “Not with so little to sustain them.”

Dean pushed to sit up, Sam helping him, searching his eyes. Dean took one of Sam’s hands in his, the other pushing back the hair that had flopped into his face, now a little sweaty. “I’m as fine as can be till we’re done. And then it’ll  _ be  _ done, the sigil will be gone, Dad will be gone and we’ll…”

He swallowed, and let his hand trail over Sam’s jaw. Sam caught his hand and brought it in for a kiss and Dean couldn’t hold back a small gasp at the easy, intimate affection.

“You’re not regretting this, are you?” Sam asked worriedly.

Heart pounding, Dean surged forward to knock their foreheads together. “No! No, Sammy – I – “ Dean blushed and pulled back a little, looking down, Sam reaching out to tilt his head back up. “This has been… it’s a lot, but I’m not. I don’t. I want this, I promise.”

Wonder suffused Sam’s features and he leaned in. The kisses were breathy, and many, and Dean felt all aflutter with it, and he groaned, tangling his hands in Sam’s hair, trying to drag him closer.

Sam pushed him back to the floor, cushioned only by the binding cloth, the kisses turning harder, needier and the fluttering in Dean’s gut turned hot and heavy. His legs spread to let Sam ease down on top of him, chest to chest, cocks sliding together.

Dean couldn’t keep his eyes open as they rutted together, lips tingling and tongues tangling. Sam bit at Dean’s lower lip and dragged it out, molten heat pouring out of half lidded eyes. Dean jerked, thrusting up hard and Sam let go of Dean’s lip with a smirk, whispering a couple of words.

Soft ropes, summoned by Sam’s words, materialized from the binding cloth and wove their way over Dean, circling wrists and ankles first, then working their way over him, tying him down securely for Sam’s pleasure.

Groaning, he pushed up against the ropes, testing their give. “Fuck,” Dean gasped, eyes wide, more turned on by the thought of Sam tying him up tight than he’d ever thought he would be.

Sam trailed his hands along the ropes, teasing Dean with barely-there touches of his fingers skimming his sweaty and bound flesh.

“Did we forget? I’m in charge here,” Sam said. “And I have a plan, Dean. You remember what that is?”

Dean’s breathing hitched. Whining desperately at the thought of finally being inside of Sam, Dean nodded. “Yes, yes, please, oh my fucking god,  _ please.” _

Sam chuckled, traced his hands downward and gave Dean’s cock a couple of jerks before shifting off Dean, leaving him naked and vulnerable.

“Shhh…..” Sam said when Dean whimpered. He flushed at being so needy for Sam, but Sam obviously liked it. “Not going anywhere, not now, not now that I’ve got you. Just going to change the view a little bit.” Turning away, Sam straddled Dean, his ass now in Dean’s face. Dean’s mouth dropped open, his tongue coming out to lick his lip, his head straining to lift, to reach for Sam –  “ I want you to open me up with your tongue while I blow you, got it?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, I got it, I want to, please Sam – I can’t – I can’t  _ reach _ – “

“I know,” Sam eased back and Dean stuck out his tongue desperately – “I’ve got ya.” Then finally he was close enough to touch, to taste and Dean groaned even as he got his lips onto Sam’s ass, mouthing his way across the fleshy globes. He’d admired Sam’s shapely butt often, as discreetly as he could, and now here it was on display, touchable – and Dean couldn’t even make use of his hands to take full advantage of that.

He slipped his tongue into the crack of Sam’s ass, a big hand reaching back and holding it so Dean could see, could  _ find  _ Sam’s hole. He traced his tongue around the puckered flesh, lightly dipped his tongue in, then back out, his dick jumping at the breathy groan Sam let out when he did.

And then Sam returned the favor, the pure torture, teasing Dean’s cock with his lips, humming lightly and slowly pulling off, keeping just the head in his mouth to lightly suckle. Dean wanted to thrust up into the heat of Sam’s mouth, wanted to come so fucking badly, but Sam continued to tease, smacking the side of Dean’s thigh when his own lips went slack.

“Back to it, Dean,” Sam growled, nipping at the inside of Dean’s thigh, rocking back onto Dean’s face. “Or I stop.”

Whimpering with his need, Dean licked and sucked, spearing Sam’s hole with his tongue until Sam was wet and grinding down on Dean’s face so hard Dean could barely breath with it.

Abruptly, Sam sat up and reached for something Dean couldn’t see, but then Dean watched as slicked up fingers circled Sam’s hole and slipped inside easily, first one, then two.

“Good job, Dean,” Sam purred. “Just a little bit more…” Sam eased a third finger inside and Dean watched it move avidly, as Sam fingered himself.

Holy fucking shit…

That was hot.

Sam laughed breathily, thrust his fingers inside once more and groaned before pulling them out and turning to face Dean. He whispered a couple more words and the ropes on Dean’s legs loosened, but before he could do a thing about it, Sam moved his legs, putting Dean’s feet flat on the ground and his knees bent and the ropes wrapped him tightly once more.

Sam lay back against Dean’s raised legs, bracing himself on Dean’s knee with one hand while the other guided Dean’s cock to his entrance, the position giving Dean the best view of his cock teasing at Sam’s hole before Sam slowly slid down in agonizing increments. Once started, Sam let go, grasping Dean’s other knee and using Dean’s legs for leverage as he lowered himself.

“Hmmmm, fuck, that feels good,” Sam said. “God, of all the things I've done, waiting for you to come back to me, I saved this one for you, so you could be my first.”

Dean gasped and jerked against the ropes and Sam laughed, rolling his hips downwards. He kept it slow, and steady and Dean felt like he was going to fucking  _ burst.  _ He watched his cock sliding in and out of Sam’s ass, mesmerized, feeling the tight heat of Sam clenching around him. He took in the bouncing cock that kept slapping Sam’s stomach, leaking copiously. Listened to the small gasps and grunts falling from Sammy’s mouth –

It was music to Dean’s ears and he panted, straining to reach higher. “Sam, Sammy, please, please, please – “ Dean babbled. “Fuck, please – I need – I need – need to –“

“Yeah, me too,” Sam gasped, shifting forward, sliding his hands over Dean’s body, rough and grasping. Sam said a few more words and the ropes were abruptly gone and Dean lay tightly coiled, trembling beneath Sam, waiting for the go ahead –

“I want you to take me, Dean,” Sam said into Dean’s throat, kissing and biting his way upwards until he could plant a kiss on Dean’s mouth, growling, “Go on, do it.”

At Sam’s release, with his own growl, Dean flipped them over and folded Sam in half, long legs going up and over Dean’s shoulders and Dean thrust into Sam deep and hard with a sigh, head going back. God, this felt good. He tilted forward again, snapping his hips and bracing his hands on Sam’s shoulders, their heads a bare handspan away from each other, breath mingling.

The pressure inside Dean was building, the light around them flaring to new heights, colors mixing in. The pain of the sigil on his chest was fading before the onslaught of pleasure coursing through Dean with every thrust, growing at the sight of Sam’s face filled with ecstasy. It was lighting Dean up from the inside, knowing he was bringing something this good to Sam, that it was  _ him  _ making Sam feel this way –

And still, Sam was in charge. He growled at Dean to move faster, harder, urging –  _ commanding  _ \- Dean on. His hands had gone around to cup Dean’s ass and pull him in, and Dean sank into it all, sank into Sam, sank into the pleasure, the love, into Sam’s grip. He let Sam’s voice wash over him, move him, control him in a way that he’d only ever wanted  _ Sam  _ to do, and only Sam.

As he let go, when Sam grunted and came, the lights of the binding cloth swirled around them, over their skin, sinking down into them, creating strands of light reaching from Dean to Sam and back again.

“Come for me, Dean,” Sam said –

And that’s all it took, Dean thrusting deep with a shout, quivering as he spilled inside of Sam, Sam’s fingers gripping his ass hard, grinding Dean down, like he couldn’t get close enough to Dean –

Maybe he couldn’t –

Dean couldn’t –

He needed –

Needed –

Dean’s vision whited out – due to the light of the binding snapping into place or from the pure pleasure rolling through him or both, Dean couldn’t tell – and he collapsed onto Sam, hips still twitching, his body smearing the cooling mess on Sam’s stomach.

They lay like that for a moment or two before Sam eased his legs down off Dean’s shoulders, rolling them over to their sides and pressing close, legs tangling together. He ran his hands soothingly along Dean’s sides as Dean clutched at Sam. Dean was breathing choppily and now that the pleasure was fading, the burning of the sigil had heightened. He choked on a sob, curling into Sam.

Sam muttered a few words in Latin  and pressed his hand over the sigil once more, one final time. The pain seared briefly and Dean screamed through gritted teeth. But then it was gone.

Without the throbbing, incessant pain of the sigil, Dean could feel the pulsing warmth of the bonding crest, right above his heart.

Dean gasped at the heat of it, at the silky slide of sensations tickling at his brain – it would take time for that to equalize, but it promised the closest bond known to man – his whole body shuddering against Sam’s, whimpering as Sam shifted against him and Dean’s now oversensitive cock, which was finally softening to lay against his thigh, spent. 

“Easy, Dean, easy,” Sam murmured, soft kisses placed along Dean’s cheeks and jaw before meeting Dean’s lips in a slow, but deep kiss.

Slowly, the light around them faded, till all that was left were the stubby candles, almost burned down to nothing. Dean’s eyes slowly readjusted, his breathing calmed. He waited for the guilt, the shame, to creep up and clobber him on the head, but it wasn’t there.

Thank  _ fuck,  _ it wasn’t there.

Dean didn’t think he could go back to the way they’d been before, when he’d been holding himself back, denying them both .

Sam rolled  Dean over ,  curling around Dean, tucking his head into Dean’s neck, one hand wrapped around Dean’s middle and lazily tracing shapes into the drying mess on his skin. Sam’s other arm was under Dean, his hand curling up to cover the new mark on his chest. Dean slowly, reverently, covered Sam’s hand in his, their fingers intertwining. Suddenly, there was wetness on Dean’s neck and a slight tremor against his back.

“I never thought we’d get to have this,” Sam whispered wetly into his skin. “God, I’ve loved you so long. Thank you, thank you for choosing me. Thank you for coming back.”

“There’s no other place I should be,” Dean said slowly , the realization coming to him  almost too late,  but at least they were here now, right? “There ain’t no me, if there ain’t no you. Never realized how much was missing, how hollow I was  till I left you behind . There ain’t no leaving you now, Sammy. For better or worse, we’re bound together.”

“Yeah, we are,” Sam said, wonder and pride both filling the words as he spoke. Warmth filled Dean as he snuggled back, wriggling closer.

He yawned.

They’d had a big day even before this combined binding and spell, and the power they’d called had been used right up to finish their task. Exhaustion flowed over Dean and his eyes fell too heavy to stay open a second longer.

They were safe here –  _ he  _ was safe here. They’d set wards around the building before they’d even started. Knowing they’d be undisturbed for anything less than an Apocalypse, Dean allowed himself to do what he’d always craved and feared before – he drifted off to sleep in Sam’s arms, safe and sound and abso-fucking-lutely  _ loved _ .

Dean was done running.


End file.
